"Mono/Dialogue"

  'Inner thoughts'

  Narration

  [Message/communication apparatus]

  Date: ???

  Location: ???

  POV: ???

  “Logically speaking, most benefit could be reaped from this Kingdom if we watch from the sidelines… that is my stance on the matter. However, there are always reasons why you endorsed Neumann instead of Olga to be the Autarch.”

  [Olga is determined to a fault, no matter how… unconventional and blithe spirited she could be. Otherwise, that Icefnder would have fgged. I would have her killed if she so much as tried to dodge her responsibility, but she didn’t, and thus left me pondering on how to utilize her uninhibited nature.]

  “So you allowed her to atone for her fanatical ruthlessness by directing it towards where it is needed.”

  [Indeed, waste not, want not. She is useful and I’m well-versed in leashing dogs for routine walks.]

  “She has a division worth of soldiers to start with, and to make things easier… I convinced Her Grace to grant her punishment and reward by being the Chief Executive Officer of the Eurekan Independent Resource Initiative. She is resourceful, and her devotion to our Grand Autarch shall pave the road to Tene-”

  [Regalian Autarchy.]

  “Same thing, we know it and she knows it.”

  [Quite so, but I have to remind and guide.]

  “… Whatever, it will lead us to greater heights of prosperity.”

  [True Born Icefnders surely knows their stuff compared to those so-called Pureblood, and her direct ancestors were there when the Great Void Gate was closed. Enough about her, though, what do you know about Neumann?]

  “I do know that he was a Hurtigern, a deviation from his reclusive family. He aced his exam and showed great flexibility in command despite being faulted for the central front’s many maises; although I believe that merging of center and east to be the best choice at the time… It puzzles me why you paired them with one another-”

  [Hurtigern family is reclusive because… hmm… they think of Lady Cylene as a goddess.]

  “…Does it kill you to be patient and let me finish my part first?”

  [Oh, pardon me, but I have duties to answer. Then, as she never cimed to be such a thing, an outndish truth made it convenient. Their devotion and desire to serve her are not something to dismiss; that’s why I allowed them to do so. We never limit what people wish to believe, as long as they serve Regalia’s interest and if all else fails… hers.]

  “… Then we have that Neumann boy… he is a staunch disbeliever in his family’s crafted idea of divinity that is Lady Cylene. RAIO agents had reported to me that he was disinherited because he denounced her godhood during a family dinner, loudly ciming that they are fools for, unironically true, substituting the real one for a fancy, muted idol. Quite the brazen boy, and I just so happen to take a liking to his military track record and resourcefulness.”

  [I reckon you were insinuating the continuation of our policy? Consider it done.]

  “And our bottom line?”

  [Tenebrea's recovery would go unimpeded if we py our moves right. Of course, we could not meddle with foreign continents on the get-go like we used to, but remember her lesson; one step at a time.]

  “Indeed, a man who could not accept a living and breathing figure as a god would be perfect for this job. His work would be made easier, accompanied by a woman who could understand the ugliness of war… They make a wonderful pair to keep the New Worlders at bay while we recover… another bit of a problem though…”

  [Seriously, that Little Brother of ours was being way too diligent… You should at least have a tight grasp on the domestic front, thus allowing me to py my role perfectly outside.]

  “That I do, my dear.”

  [How should we treat them?]

  “Courteously, mostly anyway, as we are products of a much more civilized world. Then let me quote Her Grace’s words, ‘Most humans have many more uses and benefits being alive, no matter how small.’ She never changes and so naively cruel…”

  [Yes, and I wager never going to change… Is she aware?]

  “Don’t think so… or am I that delusional, Miss Ghost?”

  [… Oh… So that’s why I feel like someone is staring at me from nowhere sometimes.]

  “What can we do? The fact that we are still alive meant that our stunts go in line with her script.”

  [Then there is simply nothing else we can do. What about Lady Cylene’s well-being?]

  “Her Grace was so inundated with works and duties that she had forgotten a gring suspicion she wouldn’t have had normally… or again, our Grand Autarch couldn’t be bothered with questioning a gifted horse in the mouth.”

  [She did clear out the many, many Trojan horses that were skulking in Tenebrea… those agents are scary. I know how she molded them, but good god…]

  “I could get some people in lower Grasdivi Auxiliary, barely, but proper Grasdivi or, god forbid, Spesdecs? Nah… Anything else you wanna nag about?”

  [Get her to rest.]

  “… How? You know that she would prefer being overworked to death than doing nothing right?”

  [Inject her with a dose of tranquilizer or spike her drink with sleeping pills if she keeps being stubborn?]

  “Now you’re just wishing me dead… Don’t ever think I’m blind to your game, and if I caught wind of you disappointing Mother, you’re dead.”

  [Noted, we shall reconvene after those beg- ahem, colborators are dealt with. Oh, oh, please tell those gloomy folks I say hi and sorry for the inconvenience.]

  “You jest? They would prefer being worked to the bone, it is just that Mother is too kind. Ok, I’m hanging up now, bye~.”

  Date: October 1919 of New World Calendar or 646 AU.

  Location: Palfr, the Isle of Fallfiore

  POV: Narrator

  A 2-meter (6’6 feet) tall, grizzled, and exhausted dark-green-haired man with a trimmed beard is walking along the battlement, currently under hasty repair and manned by untrained and scared conscripts. Many scars adorn his face, and even the mere sight of him prompts the surroundings to pay their respect or move out of the way. He waved and told them to conserve energy while they could.

  He wore a full-pte armor that had seen much better days than the one he wore right now, that is caked in mud and dried blood. His sword hung loosely on his belt, the scabbard had long since been lost and trampled by horses when he led a countercharge under a hail of arrows and arcane spells. Those perceptive enough could notice how he is dragging his left leg a beat slower than the right.

  His eyes swept over the ubiquitous arrow loops, machicotions, and parapets with many javelins, quivers for arrows, and rocks pced at strategic points for immediate combat use. He moves his vision onto the pza below the wall, his frown taking a sadder quirk on the corner of his lips. There was once a time when his mother had brought him here for his safety, but he stubbornly paddled to the mainnd to be reunited.

  Amidst his inspection, he reminisces on a better time when there were more bushes and decorative pnts that might or might not be wild grass. Bitterly he smiled, he preferred that imagery compared to a line of palisades, ditches filled with stakes, chunks of broken buildings, and an array of moats and trenches to make up the second, third line, and so on.

  A line of gardeners and people, young or old, enjoying a quiet morning, had been repced by an exhausted row of men and a line of refugees despondently waiting for their turn on rations. There were fights here and there due to desperation and dissatisfaction boiling over, which he had personally dealt with on a few occasions. Poor and starving masses against the hopeless and tired soldiers.

  It feels surreal that the existential crisis and fear of svery still could not mend the rifts between races and ethnicities. He has half the mind to reflect on whether it is even worth it, but the answer always stares back at him. He was given the st order by His Late Majesty’s dying breath, he resolved to cling to hope that Zorphal could arrive in the north and hide.

  To him, the Late King was a man worthy of his respect, and that same respect gave him the strength to fight on to the bitter end. The more astute would realize that everything on this isnd is nothing less than a futile distraction at best or foolishness at worst. He has many problems that need fixing, but the darkening cloud above him seems weirdly… soothing. The man chuckled morbidly at such a somber and humorless thought.

  Hearing a series of footsteps behind him, he straightened up his posture. Turns out that a messenger had run from the northern tip of the isnd non-stop. The messenger wears an ordinary leather outfit with a small dagger on his hip.

  “General Raegova, sir! I bring forth a message from the northern outpost!” Curiously, his breathing isn’t bored after trudging over a 160km (100 miles) strip of nd, a feat that is nigh unsurpassable. Perhaps it has to do with his goat-like legs and coupled with his outstanding ethic.

  “Hand it over.” He quickly skimmed through the letter… and threw it to the nearby brazier. His action alerted the surroundings, but he paid them no mind.

  “S-Sir?! Was something the matter?!”

  “What’s your name, Satyr? I frankly haven’t seen you before.”

  “Oh… erm… it is U’lko… sir. I worked as a lumberjack in these parts before the war… I was there once too, but returned home because I couldn’t find prospective employment on our mainnd.” The messenger tried his best to smile, but the bitterness bled through each sylble.

  “Head to the barracks for your dinner, tell the cook that I sent you for an extra portion. After that, rest until tomorrow, you earned it.” His roguish face softened, and being graced by a gentle smile from such a giant was sobering, to say the least.

  “Yes, sir! Thank you, sir!” When the messenger had left the premises, a better-armed soldier fnked him. The soldier is a female with a distinctive horn jutting out from the top of her head like an Ibex. Her wheat-colored hair is disheveled, and a cut on her lip marred her otherwise perfect beauty.

  “You look upset, that woman wouldn’t let up with her letters, no?”

  “Hah…” He sighed and motioned for her to follow him. There used to be a bit more gnces here and there, but the dire portent of their future just shaped most of their will to be frivolous or just despaired altogether. The man stopped briefly, seeing children being mobilized to carry buckets, clothes, or even fresh quivers of arrows. His hardened expression was softened by a hand caressing his cheek.

  “We are in a dire situation, but we sted this far with our freedom intact precisely because of you.”

  “Yes…” His gaze lingered a bit longer until the children ascended the walls, their tired and scared faces stung him deeply. Shaking his head slowly, the man continues leading the way from the hubbub and silent desperation of the outer walls.

  “We have gone through this…”

  “Each time we went through this meant another part that we lost. Yesterday, Alore’s bannermen vanished during the nightly assault. Today we received word that his remains are floating in the Strait of Kallmar with arrows and bolts puncturing his poorly maintained breastpte. Appears the poor bastard failed to account that he was the reason his men were offered a chance to go home.”

  “They are nothing more than traitors and cowards, you shouldn’t suffer-”

  “Then what kind of leader am I for failing to instill confidence in these folks to follow my orders to the letter? Was it not the case that a leader’s quality reflected upon their subordinates? Surely it would not bring me anything less than infamy to alienate my men, no matter the truth?”

  “…” She couldn’t answer, and her eyes were shamefully cast down on the dirty ground.

  “I’m a warrior, Nasza… My expertise y in vanquishing my enemies with sword in hand, and not in gripping a quill drenched with ink. I am too clumsy for such a thing, and our enemies understand that.” He then pointed outward over the wall and across the strait.

  “Sadly, those enemies include our brothers and sisters.” Her expression twists from his words. Nasza had witnessed all he had done to fight on, but she felt like he was the one being burdened with such a heavyweight to be an unfair lot. Raegova then look at his bandaged and chaffed hands.

  “I could feel a tree like snapping a twig, but I could not inspire trust the way His Majesty’s finest should. It is only natural that they would choose a future with a reasonably negotiable outcome. They might lose much, but my Mother always taught me that as long as you’re alive, then you can still win something.” Her grip on the scabbard tightened with each word he spouted.

  “Besides, I shouldn’t even exist.”

  “None of it was your fault; they could not separate the blood that is in you and what makes you, ‘you’. All of them are blind. You did everything to prove yourself, but when it is convenient, they cast you aside… how is that fair?” A hiss filled to the brim with distaste. The man smiled, seeing her indignation; a warmth he would surely need.

  “Fair, but they are right too. It is this same blood that allowed me to rise faster than any of them could. I’m a fool, but I still believe that our sacrifices are not in vain.”

  “How long are you going to keep daydreaming?”

  “I have no illusion that there are those who understand us and want to help; they are just powerless, and family is always first.”

  “To deny reality would not do us any good.”

  “Hah! Who said I did?” They walked through a hallway, formerly a storage area that is adjacent to the nearest tower. Said tower serves its purpose well to alert intruders or offer an overview of the battlefield below.

  Yes, below.

  A sandy beach littered with destroyed siege engines, corpses, and broken arms or banners beneath the wall. The nding was rough, and thousands died with nothing to show for it, or worse, left to die slowly because neither side could afford to be lenient. Carracks, Hulks, and Cogs made a grim decoration between the two sandy beaches; one on this side and the other on the opposite side.

  Across the strait would be a huge encampment. Angry and bitter men and women gred hatefully upon the old stronghold that faced the strait; the bridge connecting the two had been swept by the tide of war. Wyverns, Gryphons, and Firebirds frolic and patrolled above the camp. Raegova’s men are too tired after yet another interception combat, each battle was a consistent 3-to-1 loss ratio in their favor, but with a caveat, they couldn’t repce their losses despite the upper hand.

  This was a port city and was once a point to rally armies from the whole continent to make a united front. Once a forgotten pce to weather a surge of monsters from the Forgotten Ocean, now it serves new roles to either shield or fight the very people it had once protected. There was little the historical fort could do but silently watch as mortals fought another inane war.

  Nasza paused her steps near an opening freshly punched by a rge boulder. She looked at those banners less than 40 leagues away from their stronghold, and her gifted eyesight allowed her to inspect the movements of soldiers and baggage trains. Her gaze is a mix of contempt and cynicism; she has little love for the Mainnders, and her feelings only worsen each day that passes.

  “… Ionie… Zorphal…” A darker shade of her eyes was ignited, and her whole body trembled with barely constrained rage. Everything wouldn’t have turned out this way if the former hadn’t exhibited cowardice and the tter had not either obediently surrendered or died. The war would have ended there and then, at least; their future bleak but no more war. As, she is trapped with the only person she cherished, sharing a fate of slow death lingering in the air.

  Her smoldering thoughts were halted when she spotted a soft object of white gently falling upon the nd. It starts with one or two, and then it turns into many more than she could count. Blood was drained from her face, and a horrified look shattered her cloud of hate. Raegova notices her state and stands beside her. He stretched out his palm, and small bits of white rested upon it.

  “… Just our luck, winter comes early.”

  Location: Argonume, Capital of the Kingdom of Arganea.

  A figure could be seen scribbling upon parchments and documents, which required their utmost attention. These range from mundane reports on the progress of rebuilding the road to the pressing matters of which nobles are doing what sorts of tomfoolery. This figure would be none other than Her Majesty Ionie Xiel Arganea, the Queen of the recently established Protectorate of Arganea.

  Her emerald eyes contrasted with those of her st sibling. If the Exiled Monarch’s eyes were a beautiful combination of amethyst and emerald that had yet to be polished, hers were those of weathered and grazed jade. She does her duty without comment, and how much is processed with each passing moment deeply depends on her.

  There are many servants around her, but their eyes are cast upon her shadow and none upon herself. They looked lost, scared, or borderline hateful, yet not once did she pay them any mind. The 3-year-long war had caused a considerable number of casualties, and her abrupt action changed that futile war into an uneasy, retively tranquil peace. She minded them not, for each second is precious.

  Post-war negotiations with the remaining nobles are still ongoing, and they have proven to be a fickle bunch. Luckily, she is quite popur with the people in the eastern and northern parts of her Protectorate. They are grateful to her for putting an end to that loathsome conflict, but as usual, not everyone is happy. Ionie gained a stable base, but it came at the expense of other parts.

  Her hands suddenly stopped, and her posture straightened, and her lips chanted a soft arcane aria. Crisp boots could be heard walking towards her study, and the door was opened to reveal a man in his 30s. He has slick brown hair with a rattail and a pleasing tan on his skin that complements those azure eyes most splendidly. The man wore the Imperial armor of Halciadon, with all its grandeur and mystique beauty, but his expression contrasted with his bright procession.

  Ionie stood up from her seat and curtsied where she stood gracefully. The servants followed her cue and bowed to the man. His sharp gaze bore straight upon the Usurper and Peacemaker Queen.

  “Greetings, Crown Regent Darelio. To what do I owe you the pleasure of a visit?” He waived her greetings offhandedly before looking at the trembling servants on their sides. If she was received with mixed forms of negative emotions, he was received with dread.

  “Leave us.” He commanded them to leave. Rapid shuffling of boots is soon heard, and silence reigned between them. He walked towards the nearest seat near the window and took a seat, the snow pooled on the sill outside. No words were spoken, the pair shared a serenity of the upcoming winter and the frosty disaster it would bring, while the nd fell into a quiet slumber and hibernation.

  Sighing tiredly, he turns towards the woman who has been waiting patiently.

  “Halciadonian Nobles who were marching through the south were not satisfied. The region, aside from the port cities, made them little profits and glory. Svery has gone rampant, and I couldn’t guarantee they would not point their bdes north. What useless lot…”

  “Then they are willing to reignite the whole war? Must I plead upon His Excellency to grace me with more clemency? I find it hard he will find use on my frail self as it stands.” Ionie’s eyes shifted to the papers requiring her attention; the sheer volume would have caused any other noble to balk, but she must. She takes one into her hand, and her attention is soon turned back on him.

  “Crown Regent, I had agreed with the annexation of the Western Arganea and recognition of rebel suppression and eradication in the south, their taking their armies north would bode poorly.” Her lithe fingers continue it tedious but necessary work to keep what’s left of the Kingdom going. It was an arduous task to ensure the popuce could survive through the winter after all.

  “Moving eastward would not be a good choice either, the Remnants had declined my offer once more, and letting Arganean or Imperials meet would end in bloodshed. The Empire might not be as exhausted, but Northern Lords are more than capable of giving the Empire blood. Thankfully, I did manage to remind them that the war has ended, thus it will be in our interests.” She sighs.

  “The Southerners would soon resort to banditry on what I had done, and the Western shall cry out for my blood for generations to come… Preserving the North and the East has always been what we agreed upon, not only to provide sustenance for the rebuilding effort but also as my Vow to him.” Her hand almost knocked over an ink, which would have been disastrous.

  “My Late Father, Brother, and Sisters are no doubt watching me from the other side…”

  “…Eager to exact their grievances?” Emerald and Sapphire intersected, but the Queen of Arganea brushed off his rhetoric.

  “It would be for the better that our people return to their homes. The Lady of Winter paid an early visit, and she rarely did so if not being an omen of a harsher time. What a fickle force of nature, we mortals could only ment silently.”

  “As always, you are very adamant about considering such a vague omen. As we know, clinging to mysticism rarely bodes well.” Ionie furrowed her brows for a beat before her stoic face hardened once more.

  “How could I not? We know how miracles in those stories, legends, and recorded histories often tell of how greatness at hand was denied by an even greater upset; the 7 Wisemen were such people. Additionally, camitous disaster, mortal hubris, cn tearing itself to shreds, and so much more.” One of her fingers traces along the rough parchment, another demand for her to return the excessive control she wrenched from the nobles.

  “His Majesty the Emperor is on the cusp of unification, and hopefully his ambition could finally be sated and peace will return to this nd.” Her face turns, and a fleeting but unmistakable gleam streaks across those gorgeous emeralds.

  “I’m anxiously waiting for summer to come, not just any summer for harvest but a summer to mark a new beginning.” Her expression, which was shining with light, soon clouded by doubt.

  “Yet fears are growing in me; that spring would not pass merely to melt the snow, but to bring with it a new season of war.” Her eyes met his once more.

  “It might be presumptuous of me, but… we must accept the disappearance of Greater Spirits and pce it below the rebuilding process.” Darelio’s gaze is mired with confusion and a slight interest.

  “… Let’s dock that notion for a better time and hope the bleak future you’re anxious about never came to be. It would be best if you could hold the crown by then. How is the progress thus far?” The woman could not suppress the sigh from escaping her lips. Such a simple gesture, and his response is tapping the table with a tightened jaw and eyes swimming left and right.

  “… The connection wavers no longer. Zorphal is alive, and he found a stronger resolve to challenge my cim.” Her voice is hollow, but there is an auspicious flicker flitting through those eyes of hers and tainting her words. That admission made Darelio bury his face in his palms.

  “Winter is coming, as you had said, and hopefully the boy won’t st, so are his loyal to a-fault retinues. A pity that someone as bright as him became an impotent bystander, he would have been a fine addition to rebuilding this continent; a new world for us to shape. I can only pray that Aquysor Fastharad’s beasts would swallow them whole and the weather shall force him to wither away.” He reclined back on his seat, his eyes turned east to Fallfiore.

  “For our people’s sake, he should give up and retire as far away as humanly possible. If he, by some miracle, does not pursue revenge and desire for the throne, I could come up with a scheme to avoid wasting resources on his tiny paradise. Wars are spreading through the continents.”

  “I sure hope so, this war has been going on for far too long with far too many deaths… I wonder, what does my Dear Lua think of me?” A mencholic giggle dyed her study, rippling through the stagnant air to futilely dispel an emotion that hinders her.

  “If only that stubborn mule would deign to listen to my proposition.”

  “I doubt she would reciprocate fondly. Working with the assumption that she survived… Her bde would forever be sharpened and drawn to sever your neck. Her anger rivaled my brother’s. What a shame, they would have been an unstoppable force of nature, aside against those World Pilrs of course.” Fme coated his hand without any visible discomfort, and he used the other to pull out a high-quality cigar. The Queen gave him a critical look, but she soon shoved the thought away.

  “I’m aware, and I’m willing to bear it for her. That being said…” A vortex of magic cd her entire body, and the room froze with the might of this New World. Fkes of snow were suspended midair, but Darelio was not the least concerned while smoking his cigar.

  “Come then, her mystique bdes or my arcane wisdom; her inhuman sharpness or mine own…?”

  -

  -

  -

  -

  A dozen rge silhouettes blended magnificently with the color of the night sky and the draping of frost. Their rge bodies would have cast a rge pall of shadow on the earth, but with proper positioning and pnning, that too becomes an inconsequential matter. Their speed echoes a subtle terror of one capable of bringing forth such power to bear.

  These silhouettes are none other than a formation of 12 UAT-60 intercontinental personnel and heavy-duty transport, each carrying a ptoon of paratroopers along with several airborne vehicles ready for HALO drop. The interior is rather strange with extra railings that can be attached at certain points, seemingly redundant and useless because a parachute drop could be done immediately via the exit. Other than that, the inside is divided into 3 sections with the middle part occupied by airborne vehicles and supplies, while paratroopers occupy the seated sections sandwiching it.

  Escorting them would be a squadron of fighters consisting of recently activated SF-27s, courtesy of the now non-existent URAF of MURG. Aside from the engine and sensitive systems that need to be cannibalized to maintain them, Regalia managed to reverse-engineer most of the aircraft until their fighter finished testing. The armaments require some fine-tuning and synchronization, luckily, the Autarchy had experience dealing with their system.

  Their sleeker body and less blocky structure, coupled with different sets of weapons, fascinate those interested in them.

  “To think we would be escorted by one of our former ally’s best aircraft, fate is fickle, isn’t it?”

  “Yeah, what do you think would happen if the Hyperpowers were dragged here with us?”

  “I think they would be very forthcoming to liberate these nds from their tyrannical owners. It will surely dissuade them from pursuing continuation of war with us.”

  “In other words, they got off scot-free to roam the nd while we rebuild?” Bitter grudges had already formed for some of them, and if left to fester, could end with unwanted effects.

  “Man… Hyperpowers are having it easy and this world isn’t big enough for their ego.”

  “Who wants to bet the Chrysanthemums are going to flood the whole continent with migration fleets? Our popution and ndmass barely equated to a tenth of theirs.”

  “I don’t get it, man, how that’s possible?”

  “Leave it to the Celestial Empire. Growing people as easy as potatoes and then chuck those poor sods to a meat grinder with space for more…”

  “Bah, no one will have an easy sleep if UFSNE gets serious. Bet my entire paycheck they are going to bomb their targets to high heaven the moment their Congress could pull their heads out their asses.”

  “My money on those Victorian, no rocks shall go unturned and conquered if they are around.”

  “Alliances between NIIO members would colpse, too many untapped resources would make them less cooperative. If what happened to us happened to them, no doubt.”

  “You guys are betting on a useless lot and obvious choices, I'd rather keep my credits close.”

  “Ain’t that right?” Jovial ughter rang inside the cabin/cargo hold, with some making crass remarks about the Hyperpowers having too much fun with the New World’s denizens and their idea of conquest. Hearing all these would make people wonder: where is their discipline? Fair question, but the one who asked such a question must inspect closely at these soldiers closely.

  These paratroopers had been legally registered as PMCs. It might sound like a convoluted scheme for such a backward world, but every bit of truth intermixed with whispers of lies goes a long way.

  Such a dynamic could be seen from them conversing through non-standard respiratory masks and equipped with an admittedly eclectic mix of gear and loadout. These people are armed with weapon systems of mostly Maximian origin; not only are they abundant back home because of the transference, but also because they are quite robust. Additionally, it serves to separate legitimate soldiers from these arguably legitimate operations.

  This technically logistical nightmare was deliberate, and also to test a new addition to their interventionist and defensive doctrine. These captured pieces of equipment tend to collect dust in the warehouse, and scrapping them all is not feasible with how much backlog Regalia needs to slog through, so why not let these militants utilize them? Clearing up inventory was never so cheap.

  “Speaking about UFSNE, they would just tax this world to death, isn’t that the reason for one of their state breaking off? 20th War also happened because of them greedy fucks.”

  “Nah, it was more like their Congress being a complete burning mess. Some of them breaking off is just a natural outcome if we let those damn corpos dictate how the war goes.”

  “What was the state again? Ohio?”

  “Heard it was called the Ultra State of Ohio or something, what a weird name.”

  “Rumors said that they developed an actual Super Soldier Serum.” Their chatters soon attracted others with simir interests. Ideas such as adamantium skin, tungsten bones, and so on become the primary topic. That’s until someone broaches an economic topic.

  “That’s just Edenian in general, they have so many banks and loans. When I was with the goodwill regiment, never had I shuddered to see 1.5% interest so intimidating. The Federated States are certainly advanced countries, but good god those stock market rats on top of subprime loans…”

  “How ironic, I mean, we are corporate employees effective immediately.” One of them uttered while dangling a different dog tag. Unlike the Pegasus embzoned with Ice above their name, this one shows an abbreviation of Eurekan Independent Resource Initiative with another one ciming allegiance to the Kingdom of Arganea under its rightful king.

  “He’s not wrong, but I’m wondering about an interesting bit…” A few huddled together in their seats, and their speech turned into a hushed whisper.

  “Why the hell is our commanding officer that Mad Dog Olga?”

  “Beats me, Her Grace has a weird sense of humor, I guess.”

  “Now you’re just talking mad shit here, no way she is the one who did it. Her Grace should be too busy deciding who is leading this side school project. It must have been her second-in-command or whoever coaxed her.”

  “She is an Elder, her people have higher natural specs than us.”

  “Oh yeah, it is just that she is so close to us I kinda forgot about that.”

  “‘Course, and remember to choose your words carefully.”

  “Man… what would I do to see her in those public visits…?”

  “Let’s hope Olga is not as bad as the rumors say.”

  “Dude, stop it, our CO wouldn’t kill us for no reason.”

  “So you don’t mind if Olga’s orders are ambiguous and fishy as fuck?”

  “Meh, I don’t mind her being chosen to orchestrate the chaos below. She is precisely the right person to command the operation here.”

  “We have none of those waste of paper treaties, and we technically aren’t protected by the w of wars anyway, so why not go deep?”

  “While we are getting ‘paid’ for shooting things, we are not in there just to make enemies and shoot things, idiot.”

  “Man… what got you so on edge huh…? No one is going to get mad at us for strategically transferring equipment to another location…” He was about to continue when the Jumpmaster stood up and approached the cargo ramp’s button.

  [Time warning, T-minus 10! T-minus 10! T-minus 10!] The onboard paratroopers quieted down. As if on cue, the Mad Dog herself addressed the whole unit.

  [This is Medusa to all units.] The woman herself was soon heard speaking. What they didn’t expect was… how friendly her tone sounded. They had heard of her and what she had done to enforce what was once a thunderous breakthrough into a costly corpse grinder.

  There were alleged leaks of audio recordings of her going off with unusual orders. From trenches pulverized by artillery barrage, scorched countryside and settlements, and even the expedited execution of traitors. Her actions weren’t admirable, but they forced NIIO to move at a snail's pace for 7 whole years.

  Yet at that moment, her tone is sincere and warm, and that makes them think, ‘Is this the same person?’ Their question goes unanswered when she continues.

  [We are here to witness the greatest undertaking since our fathers and mothers, and their ancestors before them. We, Regalian, embark upon a New World’s crusade.] There is a strange pause on her words, and may or may not include one or two expletives. Those with keen hearing identified a muffled shuffling of papers before the sound of an object being tossed away was heard.

  [Her Grace instructed me to be candid, so neither will I bore you with the sophistry of higher calling while preaching and prattling about moral superiority, nor would it affect our assignments.

  Our objectives in Southern Arganea would be as follows: Elimination and disruption of hostile elements, establishing pockets of supply bases and safe houses, and providing support, preferably through indirect means, for King Zorphal’s Loyalists throughout the winter. If possible, we are encouraged to avoid getting too involved with the peasants’ republic.

  Be warned, avoid prolonged contact with non-hostile elements unless necessary. Otherwise, subdue or silence protocol must, unfortunately, be enforced. They shouldn’t be aware that we are here, and we must stay quiet until the spring offensive commences. None of us is here for some votile value of glory and honor. After all, SIEZ taught us accessories in mission mattered none.]

  She pauses to let her words sink in. The mission’s possible obstacles have been drilled into their skull, and their small numbers present their own set of advantages and disadvantages. After 10 seconds of silence, her voice returned with a cautionary tone.

  [Our enemies came from a bygone era, but I do not need to remind you that a sword is sufficient to tear open flesh, an arrow embedded itself then could kill, and a small wound could be disastrous. We have been mutated over generations, but baseline human weaknesses are still applicable to us.

  The existence of an unnatural phenomenon known as metaphysical, or magical, is occasionally encountered during dimensional raptures. Their existence is confirmed, and thus I implore all of you to take utmost precaution when combating those responsible.

  However, remember that we didn’t come from a world where we could just frolic in ignorance, no. Every one of you has seen horror once in your life, and I expect the same grit and confidence here.

  We had withstood foes incomparably deadlier than theirs had ever seen, we had been staring hell in the eye, and we had survived through the bsted war.

  Thus, a true foe of ours would be compcency.

  Don’t forget to look after your brothers and sisters, for they are your lifeline in an unknown world. Do not separate, and do not let yourself be left to take desperate measures. Her Grace is watching our deployment with heightened interest; do not fail her. Do you get me?]

  [[[[WE GET YOU MA’AM!]]]] The Paratroopers shouted in unison to their communication link. Their voice briefly drowned the rocking of snowy weather outside, and their first deployment would be in a pyground they had been accustomed to.

  [Good, Jumpmasters carry on with your duty, and as for all of you, see you on the ground.] She paused shortly, and then a distinct thumping sound echoed through their link.

  [Eternity!] A stern shout was sung into the communication link and contrasted with her previous demeanor. Her soldiers reciprocated absolutely and sprang into practiced motion for their country.

  [[[[[FOR OUR AUTARCHY!]]]] Everyone saluted in their seat, an ingrained habit that has been injected deep into their psyche. 600 years of careful social and cultural conditioning made what in truth was a psychological manipution as easy as breathing. Soon they fell into rapt silence and focused on their tasks respectively.

  [Time warning, T-minus 5! T-minus 5! T-minus 5!] Some pray, some look at their mementos from home, and others listen carefully to commands. The aircraft shakes minutely, but nothing too dangerous; this is just how they are doing it back at that damnable Icefield, too.

  [Get ready! Get ready! Get ready!] Soon, the lights start blinking off and on with a red hue. Anxiety and excitement coalesced into fervent anticipation.

  [Stand up! Stand up! Stand up!] Paratroopers left their seats and lined up next to the vehicles and supplies in the middle, with two columns for each side. These paratroopers carried 2 backpacks; one up front and one on the back.

  [Gear check! Gear check! Gear check!] Pairs were immediately formed to check on each other. Weapons, personal kits, and miscelneous gear should be fastened for possible malfunctions. 4 medical officers took hold of their wrists and injected a serum into their bloodstream, and with each injection came an exhale of vapor against the chilly wind.

  [Hook up! Hook up! Hook up!] Attaching and sliding their hook on the railings, they line up smoothly with well-practiced movements and procedures.

  [Static line check! Static line check! Static line check!] The jumpmaster and the crews checked for any possible deterioration on the hook line. With no complication spotted, they proceed to the next phase.

  [Readiness check! Readiness check! Readiness check!] One st redo for weapons check, gears check, fres check, personal safety kit check, and so forth was listed as proper, with the backup parachute being the st confirmed. Additionally, thermal and night vision sights will notice their strobes are minutely updating their position through the satellite to mission command.

  [SOUND OFF! SOUND OFF! SOUND OFF!] A singur command reverberated upon the paratroopers.

  [[[[ALL GREEN, JUMPMASTER!]]]] Replied by vigorous chorus and cheers; voices of affirmation from men and women who shall soon fall onto the earth.

  [Time warning, 30 seconds! 30 seconds! 30 seconds!] One st warning and reminder before they drop into what is essentially an unknown world, wrought with perils and danger. They were briefed on what to expect, but nothing is assured on the field of battle, and more so when combat is concerned.

  [Stand by! Stand by! Stand by!] The blinking stops, and the cargo hold is engulfed in darkness. Heart-pounding muscles tense or rex, breathing leveled ftly or controlled dynamically, and they wait for the st command.

  Green Light shines over them.

  The jumping ramp lowered simultaneously to reveal snow and the veil of winter bnketing the world softly and quietly. A New World, and they are the first to tread upon this side of the world. For these men and women, the whole affair feels like a fantasy come to life. Born and growing up in Tenebrea had tempered themselves just as the Jumpmaster’s command ignited their nerves with resolve.

  [GO! GO! GO!]

  Airborne vehicles push on first, followed by supplies before the paratroopers jump and dive from heaven. They feel their bodies pressed against the winds and currents, the gnawing and welcoming sensation of frosty weather they had endured through many sleepless nights. This dreadful nostalgia rouses morbid fascinations in realizing how their normal is so out of the norm.

  A rapid insertion and exfiltration had been commenced. The night sky is raining men, and these men shall bring the sky raining down on the earth. It starts as small pitter-patters on their roof, but soon the veil of uncertainty, of darkness that shrouded their eyes, shall be lifted, and with it came the Pathfinders and Frostwalkers staking their fg of discovery and domination just as they had done on the Old Icefield.

  Helicar shall be rudely awakened by an adversary not once in their mind ever fathom. Not one sent by those uded Hegemons of their world but coming from across an infamous sea long forsaken by the divines.

  A foe that is alien in their entirety brought forth through an ironic and absurd coincidence. The New World is facing infiltrators, incursors, and invaders who were once the guardians and victims of hell.

  [END OF CHAPTER]

  Author’s Note:

  Yo there, this is me, myself, and I, the author who have no idea what the fuck is going on anymore. The job hunt has been… yeah, no I won’t waste my time on it.

  UAT-60 = YB-60 modified as a rge intercontinental transport.

  Here we then see the perspectives of locals on their predicament. Some of you might find it surprising, but be warned, it doesn’t take a devil to be heartless or just trying to salvage the situation. I take some liberties in arranging the Jumpmaster’s commands to add a bit more fvor to the Regalian military.

  Lastly, we’ll be seeing more actions in the next chapters. Update as whatever or something.

  Ciao.